


The Light Amidst My Darkness

by Cheyenne246



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cute, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Slow Burn, Sweet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:14:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25586512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheyenne246/pseuds/Cheyenne246
Summary: You’re James Buchanan Barnes’s new therapist. Struggles await you, but you’re determined to help this hurting man, come hell or high water. Will you find love along the way? Will you be his light amidst his own darkness?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Mentions of mental illness. I tried to present Bucky’s challenges as accurately as possible. However, if anyone has some suggestions as to better portray his illness and resulting therapy, please lmk! (I researched to depict his struggle with mental illness and the type of therapy he would recieve as accurately as I could).  
> Curse words are also included.  
> Italics are thoughts and emphasis.  
> Set before Infinity War and Endgame.  
> Slow burn.  
> I don’t own any of the characters.

Your heels clicked on the cold marble tile as you strode towards your office. You unconsciously took a sharp turn down one of the compound’s hallways, caught up in your own little world. Thoughts swam in your head as you tried to make sense of the day’s tasks.  _ I have a session with Wanda at 9:30, a meeting with my boss at 11, another session at 3. Did I mention lunch? What am I doing for that? A salad? A burge- _

Your thoughts were interrupted by a cacophony of sounds floating down to you from the second floor’s overhang. Reflexively, your head shot up to determine the source of the ruckus. Almost immediately, your eyes met with cold icy blue ones.  _ The Winter Soldier _ _._ Or the White Wolf, whatever they were calling him these days. Throughout the past few weeks, you had only come across the man ( _super soldier?_ ) a few times. But now, in the middle of the hallway, his stare had stopped you right in your tracks. Suddenly, you recalled the details on his file. You had been given the information, which you had placed with the rest of the teams’s files, when he first officially joined the team and came to stay at the tower. _ Credited with over 100 assassinations of government officials, ranging across various countries. Charged with multiple war crimes. Cybernetic left arm. Enhanced abilities, including superhuman strength. Russian spy skilled in hand-to-hand combat and the use of many weapons _ _._ Simply put, the man was deadly. A shiver ran through you, images of the acts he had committed flitted through your mind. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of trepidation toward him. Enough in fact, to make you want to exit the area as quickly as possible. 

You caught yourself. It wasn’t professional for you, a therapist, to let emotions take over your rationale. Nor should you make judgments without having even truly met the man. Not to mention, Steve Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America, had defended James Barnes multiple times. And if there was anyone you trusted completely, it was the Captain. So, you would trust his judgement of character here. Steeling yourself under the assassin’s intense gaze, you nodded to him and continued on your way to your office. 

As you walked along, you thought about all James Buchanan Barnes had went through. Flung from a train, captured by Hydra, and brainwashed to become the exact thing he had fought against. You wondered what it felt like to be at someone’s mercy with the mere utterance of a few words. Forced to commit deeds you never would on your own, awakening to the aftermath.  _ Even worse _ , you thought,  _to be pitted against your closest friend, facing off from different parts of the battlefield. To be a twisted version of what made Captain America so great._

You decided to cut Mr. Barnes some slack. He had been through enough. 

With that final thought, you stepped into your office. 

Wanda Maximoff sat in her usual chair, patiently awaiting your arrival. Upon hearing you enter, she looked up from her phone and gave you a smile. “Heya, Doc.” 

You couldn’t help but grin in response. “Hello, Wanda. How are you today?” 

And with that, your first session of the day began. However, your mind kept wandering to those piercing blue eyes. You couldn’t deny that the soldier was handsome, incredibly so, actually. Tall, strongly built, and with those pretty blue eyes and dark hair. No matter how many times you tried to prevent your mind from replaying the scene in the hallway, you still found yourself getting distracted. 

Wanda seemed to notice. “Are you okay Y/N? You seem a little off today?” 

Shaking your head a little to relieve yourself of those distracting thoughts, you replied: “I’m fine, Wanda. I appreciate you asking, though.” 

_ Its not like me to get distracted, especially during my job.  _

“Of course. We  _ are _ friends, you know.” 

You chuckled. “I know. But right now, I’m your therapist. So keep talking.” 

“If I do, will you listen this time?” She said with a smirk. 

You decided to ignore that comment. “So how would you describe your state of mind these past few days?” 

Wanda gave a slight laugh, knowing what you were doing. However, she cut you a break and continued your conversation. 

The minutes passed by with little to no thought of James Barnes, and soon, your therapy session had ended. 

“Alright, that’s it. I’ll see you again at 3pm Thursday.” 

She smiled. “Sounds good, Doc.” 

You said your goodbyes as you walked her to the door of your office. Once she left, you sighed and sat down at your desk. You checked the clock:  _ 10:42 _ . You groaned. Eighteen minutes until your meeting. While contemplating the advantages and disadvantages of faking an illness ( _ the flu? Chicken pox? The plague? _ ), a notification popped up on your phone. Checking it, you realized it was an email from your boss: 

Good Morning, Y/N! 

I just wanted to let you know that our meeting has been cancelled. Director Fury said he needs to speak with you. 11 sharp. 

Have a good day! 

-Katherine Newman

Dread settled in the pit of your stomach.  _ What could Fury want with me? _ You hardly ever spoke with the Director unless it had to do with one of your clients.  _ Was this it? Am I getting fired? Is this because of me zoning out today? Did Wanda say something to him? No, no she would never sell me out like that.  _

You tried to calm your racing nerves. You were overreacting, you knew, but Fury had a way of intimidating people. Unclenching your fists, you swallowed and checked the clock once more:  _ 10:45 _ . 15 minutes. 15 minutes until you had to see Fury face to face. 

15 minutes to make yourself presentable and cross the entire tower. 

_ Shit!  _

Grabbing your things quickly, you made for the door. Heels clacking loudly against the floor, you began a fast pace toward Fury’s office. There was no way you could be late to a meeting with  _ him _ of all people. The minutes it took to reach his workplace felt like hours due to your frantic worries. Finally, your eyes met with the name plaque on his door:  _ Nick Fury.  _

Smoothing down your skirt, you took a deep breath and knocked. A muffled ‘enter’ was your response. Another deep breath and you were opening the door, only to be met with the same icy blue eyes from earlier. 

There, sitting in front of Fury’s desk, was the object of your obsession for the past few hours: _James Buchanan Barnes_.  The Winter Soldier. 

Once more, you found yourself floored by the man’s intensity. This time, however, it was Fury’s voice that brought you back to the present. 

“Have a seat, Miss Y/L/N.” 

Only hesitating slightly, you closed the door behind you and headed to the seat next to Bucky. You made sure to not balk when taking the seat next to him, however, as you did not want him to think you feared him. 

Once you were settled, Fury cleared his throat.“I’m sure you’re wondering why I had your meeting cancelled today.” 

“Yes, sir,” you hesitantly replied. 

“I’ve called you here to introduce you to your new patient.” 

_. . . new . . . patient?  _

Despite your confused appearance, Fury continued on. “He has to be cleared before he can go on any missions. Your sessions with Mr. Barnes will begin Friday.” 

You felt James’s gaze on you. An unnamed feeling spread across your body. 

_ He’s waiting for my reaction _ _,_ you realized.  _He wants to see how I’ll respond to having to work with him._

Drawing strength from every professional fiber of your body, you prepared yourself and smiled. “Sounds good to me, Director Fury. Do you have a specific time in mind?” 

His response was curt. “2:30pm.” 

You smiled again, desperate to hide your nerves. “I’ll schedule it right away, sir.” 

“Good.” 

Ignoring Fury’s usual bluntness, you turned to James. “I look forward to working with you, Mr. Barnes.” 

There was a hint of surprise in his expression, but he schooled himself quickly. Nodding, he turned back to Fury. 

You didn’t take offense at his brusque nature. It was commonplace, you knew, for those that struggled with mental illness to behave in a blunt or off-kilter way. Instead, you made a mental note to express happiness at being around him. It would do him good for him to know people can be comfortable, and even look forward to, him being around. 

( _ Even if I’m not totally comfortable _ ). 

Fury turned to look at James. “That’s all, Mr. Barnes. Remember your appointment, and I know you are aware of her office’s location.” 

_ Was that . . . a . . . teasing tone of voice?  _

Even better, you could have sworn a light blush had settled on the soldier’s cheeks. 

Nodding once more, James rose and strode out of the room. 

Again, you were not put off by his behavior, as you had seen similar conduct from your other patients. Instead, you wondered about the odd exchange between Mr. Barnes and Fury.  _ Am I missing something?  _

Your gaze settled back on Fury. “Was there a reason you had my meeting cancelled, Director Fury? Not to be disrespectful, but couldn’t you’ve just had me meet you later, sir?” 

He chuckled. “Well sure, but that wouldn’t get you out of your meeting would it?” 

You laughed, and felt the tension that you hadn’t even realized was still there release from your shoulders. 

“It’s much appreciated, Director Fury.” 

“No problem. And kid?” 

“Yes, sir?”

“Get back to work.” 

You scrambled for your things. “Yep, sure thing, sir.” 

Headed toward the door, you gave one last look behind you. “Have a good day, sir.” 

“Goodbye, kid.” 

“Y-yep. Goodbye,” you stuttered. 

You stepped out of his office and shut the door behind you. Breathing a sigh of relief, you made your way back to your office. 


	2. Your New Patient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your first session with Mr. Barnes is today, and you have no idea what’s going to happen. Will you figure out a way to ease his troubled mind?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of mental illness. I tried to present Bucky’s challenges as accurately as possible. However, if anyone has some suggestions as to better portray his illness and resulting therapy, please lmk! (I researched to depict his struggle with mental illness and the type of therapy he would recieve as accurately as I could).   
> Curse words are also included.   
> Notes: Italics are thoughts and emphasis.   
> Set before Infinity War and Endgame.  
> Slow burn.

Your new patient? 

Frankly, you probably should have seen this coming. And really, you weren’t sure why you were so affected by the news. After all, it was your job, and you worked with multiple deadly personages on a daily basis. 

_ But I’ve never had a patient with such extensive mental trauma before .  Will I know how to handle it?  _

Or one that was as attractive as James Buchanan Barnes.

Anyway. 

You truly were worried that you weren’t prepared enough to handle Mr. Barnes’s psychological distress. As you made your way back to your office, you began making a mental list of the methods you could try out on Mr. Barnes.  _ He doesn’t seem like the talkative type, and pushing him will only make things worse. I want him to feel comfortable with me. I don’t want him to feel like I’m another no-named medical professional backing him into a corner with useless questions.  _ Taking a seat at your desk, you began taking notes on a document, completely immersed in your work. 

Time flew by throughout the next few days. Between meetings and sessions with your other patients, it seemed like Friday arrived in a blink of an eye. The moments in between your busy schedule were spent creating a plan for Mr. Barnes. You were aware that unconventional means would most likely be more beneficial for the soldier. 

As the time ticked closer to your session, however, you became increasingly more nervous. Possible methods ran through your head, each one making you worried about its effectiveness.  _ What would work best on him? _

Looking at your clock, you watched as the numbers changed.  _ 2:30 _ _._ With a chirp from your phone notifying you of the session, a knock came at the door.  _ Wow, he’s punctual.  _

You called for him to enter, and as the super soldier stepped into your office, you realized you had to make a decision on how you would set up your session.  _ Now .  Shit .  _

He stood almost hesitantly in your doorway, so you waved him forward with a smile. The ex-assassin strode with silent steps towards the empty chair in front of you. Giving only a moment of delay once more, he settled into the chair. 

Immediately, you noticed his body language.  _Tensed. Straight back. Sat closer to the edge of the seat._ He looked ready to strike. Or bolt. You assumed whichever benefitted him the most in the moment. 

Looking him in the eye, you smiled once more. “Hello, Mr. Barnes.” 

You received a curt nod in response. Making sure your body language remained relaxed and calm, you looked back down at your file. And that’s how it remained for the rest of the session. You, taking diligent notes, and him, staring blankly ahead. The past hour had proceeded in near silence, save for the scratch of your pen. When 3:30 hit, your eyes rose from your work, and you smiled at him again. “Have a good day, Mr. Barnes.” 

His face was near emotionless. Nodding as per usual, he stood from his chair and left your office. 

The door shut quietly behind him. 

You had come to the conclusion, mere seconds before he had taken a seat, actually, that you wanted Mr. Barnes to come to you. He would make no progress if he felt like he was being forced into doing something he didn’t want to. After all, that was how his stint as the Winter Soldier played out. Not to mention, you didn’t want to pressure him. You were sure he was already overwhelmed because of people’s judgement due to his past deeds, and the pestering from others to become ‘better.’ So, you would wait for him to make the first move, no matter how long it took. You were determined to see this through. 

You had also made the conscious decision to fixate on your own body language. By remaining seemingly relaxed and comfortable, you hoped to show him that you held no fear of him. Nor, were you bothered by his presence.

Though, you hoped he would come to you soon, as you were desperate to see what was going through that head of his. After all that he had been through, you were interested to see how he was coping. 

But you would wait. You made a promise to yourself. Come hell or high water, you would help James Buchanan Barnes progress. 

In a similar fashion, the next two sessions passed. He would knock on your office door, you would tell him to enter, he would walk on quiet feet to his seat, and then settle silently in his chair. You would greet him, and receive a nod in return. The next hour would then be spent in silence. He would remain with fixed eyes across the room, and you would take notes on his behavior. At the end, you would bid him a good day, and he would leave with a nod of of his head. You had, in your opinion, settled into your role perfectly.

It was during the fourth session that he cracked. 

He had entered the room in his usual silent fashion, and sat in his normal chair. You greeted him, and then turned back to your work. 

Fifteen minutes passed before he broke the silence. 

“Why do you do that?” he questioned in a quiet voice. 

You hummed. “Do what?” 

“For the past three sessions you have not said anything to be but ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye.’ 

“That’s right,” you replied, returning to your notes. 

“Well, aren’t you going to ask me any questions?” 

“Do you want me to?” 

“No.” 

“Then no, I won’t.” 

He looked thoroughly confused. “I don’t understand.” 

“What do you not understand, Mr. Barnes?” 

“All of my past psychiatrists asked me questions.” 

You hummed once more. “Well, I’m not your past psychiatrists.” 

He still had a baffled look on his face. “So you’re  _ not _ going to ask me questions?” 

“No, Mr. Barnes. This time is for you. While you are in this room, with me, I do not wish for you to feel pressured or forced into doing anything you’re not comfortable with.” 

_ Well, that’s new _ _,_ he thought. 

The clock struck 2:30, and, as per usual, you wished him a good day. Nodding unconsciously, he made for the door. Upon reaching it, he heard you mutter: “It was nice talking to you today, Mr. Barnes.” Still confused, he exited your office. 

The trek back to his room was filled with conflicting thoughts about you.  _ What were you up to? Did you truly mean what you had said? Could he trust you? _ Reaching his room, he stepped inside in order to contemplate the last session some more. 

Back in your office, you were pretty pleased with yourself.  _He talked to me today. Like, an actual conversation. Not just a nod!_ Admittedly, you were pretty proud of yourself for the progress you made. Your decision had paid off, and the wait was definitely worth the outcome. 

Perhaps this would go better than you expected. 

_ One could hope, right?  _


	3. A Break in a Bad Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’ve had a bad morning—no, scratch that—a bad day. But, a session with Bucky may be what you need to turn your day around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of mental illness. I tried to present Bucky’s challenges as accurately as possible. However, if anyone has some suggestions as to better portray his illness and resulting therapy, please lmk! (I researched to depict his struggle with mental illness and the type of therapy he would recieve as accurately as I could).  
> Curse words are also included.   
> Notes: Italics are thoughts and emphasis.  
> Set before Infinity War and Endgame.   
> Slow burn.   
> Slight angst in this chapter.

Your day had been, to put it simply, Hell. You had been plagued by nightmares the night before, the images consisting of subjects you could no longer remember once the drowsiness seeped from your skin. Thus, you had awoken on the wrong side of the bed (quite literally), and your mood hadn’t improved since. You weren’t going to lie: you were irritable and tired, and frankly? You just wanted some sleep. 

On top of your sleepiness, your boss had you in meetings (discussing unimportant topics, in your opinion) all morning. There was not a moment to think, let alone catch up on some much-needed rest. 

To make matters worse, your first session consisted of a whirlwind of emotions from your patient; ranging from solemn to outraged to cheerful. Normally, you could handle the situation just fine. However, your restless night made it nearly impossible. 

You sighed. You just really wanted to get this day over with. 

_ One last session and then I can go home and sleep forever.  _

Your last session of the day was with James Barnes. While the man still hadn’t said anything since your last conclave where he cracked and asked you about your motives, he had become noticeably less hesitant when entering your office. And dare you say, more comfortable. You had high hopes that he would continue to progress. However, you expected his silence would persist for a few more sessions, at the least. You definitely pegged him as a stubborn and determined man. 

_ He wouldn’t give up easily.  _

Or so you thought. 

The usual time of 2:30 struck and you settled in your seat, awaiting James’s punctual arrival. 

As per usual, the soldier knocked, waited for your invitation to enter, and then opened the door quietly. After, he made his way to his seat and settled comfortably. You noticed there was only trace amount of tension in his shoulders. Still evident, but it was clear that he was more secure in this space. He no longer appeared ready to bolt at a moments notice. 

Giving him your typical smile, you greeted him. 

Instead of nodding however, he responded with a greeting of his own: “Hello.” 

Simple, you knew, but this meant  _ everything _ for James. You knew he had probably been preparing himself for this moment for days, trying to convince himself that you were at least somewhat trustworthy. 

You really couldn’t help the smile that lit up your entire face.

He  _ trusted _ you, at least a little. But, you refused to push him. Greeting you probably took a large toll on him. And so, the rest of your session was as quiet as a sleeping viper.

It was funny, really, how one little greeting from the man made your mood improve exponentially. 

But it meant you had  _ done _ something. As insignificant as it appeared to the human eye, you had, some way or another,  _ helped _ James Buchanan Barnes. It was a small step, but it still meant progression. And in this case, any advancement was good. Plus, from the information in his files, you made the conclusion that no one had truly benefitted or assisted the ex-assassin. So, the fact that you, out of all the highly regarded medical professionals that he had dealt with, aided him in any way, was mind blowing. Of course, you were determined to see it done, but to actually have it happen was shocking. 

What wasn’t shocking, however, was the smile that remained on your face for the rest of the session. 

_ I can’t believe I actually made progress with him today. Me! Of all people!  _

Your plan, so far, was working. 

Caught up in your pride at your accomplishment, you hadn’t even realized the session had ended. Realizing you were late to give your usual ‘goodbye,’ you went to open your mouth when Mr. Barnes beat you to it: “Goodbye. Have a nice day.” 

And with that, he had crossed the room and exited before you could utter a response. 

_He truly outdid himself today. Not only did he greet me, but he also wished me a good day! Progress, indeed._

You grinned, perhaps the day wasn’t so bad after all. 

And so, the following sessions occurred in similar fashion. Although, each time he greeted you, you tried to appear less surprised (it was up for debate if you succeeded). At the end of the session, like clockwork, he would say his goodbye and hasten out the door. (The previous session, however, he had seemed to wait a little longer before leaving the room, giving you just enough time to return his ‘goodbye.’ You still weren’t sure whether or not this was done on purpose, though. But you told yourself it was ) . 

The change in him was small, but if you looked closely, it was clear to see that he was becoming more familiar with you. The thought left a little strand of hope in your stomach. Hope that you could truly help this traumatized and hurting man. 

Thursday morning, as you strolled to the Tower’s coffee stand, you mumbled to yourself. “First I’ve got to turn in those reports, and then I need to update the information in my files. I also should probably-“ 

“Overworking yourself again?” 

You jumped at the sound, turning to give whoever had the audacity to scare you a piece of your mind. 

The blue eyes and blonde hair gave him away immediately. 

_ Steve Rogers.  _

You smiled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Captain.” 

He chuckled. “I’m sure. But seriously, you need to cut yourself some slack, you know.” 

“Oh, ‘cause you’re such a great role model in that subject,” you said teasingly. 

He gave a bashful smile. “Touché.” He cleared his throat, “so, how’s it going with your new patient?” 

You couldn’t help but smile.  _He was always so worried about James, so protective of him._

“ Steve, you know that’s confidential.” 

His face fell a little. “Yeah, yeah I know. I just worry about him sometimes.” 

You sighed, feeling bad for the Captain. “Well, I can’t tell you much, but what I can tell you is that he is behaving quite well. Better than expected actually.” 

At that, Steve’s eyes lit up. “Yeah? Is he improving?” he asked excitedly. 

“Steve.....” you warned. 

He coughed, embarrassed. “Right, right. Confidentiality.” 

You smiled warmly. “Exactly.” Looking up at him, you playfully asked: “So, the only reason you decided to give me a heart attack was to ask about Mr. Barnes?” 

Steve blushed and rushed to correct you. “No. No. Of course not. I just haven’t seen you in awhile.” 

You laughed at his cute reaction. “Yeah, I’ve been super busy as of lately. I’ve been trying to stay on top of it, but I’m not sure if I’m succeeding.” 

Placing a hand on your shoulder, he confidently told you: “I’m sure you’ve got it handled. You’re always so put together. Makes me a little jealous.” 

You both laughed.

“Thanks, Steve. So, what about you, Mr. Captain America? What have you been up to?”

“Same old, same old, to tell you the truth.” 

“Sooooo, saving the world?”

“Pretty much,” he laughed shyly. 

Suddenly, a loud beeping noise interrupted your conversation. Checking your phone, you realized you had a session with Mr. Barnes in ten minutes. “Damn, looks like I’m not getting any coffee today.” 

He nodded understandingly. “Work?”

“Our infamous Mr. Barnes, actually.” 

He smiled. “Well, I hope it goes well.” 

Grinning back, you said: “Me too. I’ll see you around, Cap.” 

“See you later, Y/N.” 

After exchanging promises to meet up and talk, you turned and headed back to your office. You were only a little disappointed in your lack of coffee. 

_ If I had to give up my caffeine, at least it was replaced by some good company.  _

Finally reaching your office, you took a seat and began preparing for your next session with James. 

The minutes slipped past, and you heard your phone ding. Still no James. Fifteen minutes passed and he still hadn’t arrived. 

_ Where is he?  _

A knock then came at your door. After calling for them to enter, James strode in and settled in his seat. 

“Hello. It wasn’t a good day for me.” 

_ Holy shit. Did he just start a session? Like an actual session with talking? What the hell do I do now??  _

When you gave no response, he continued on: “I know that therapists usually ask you about your day, so.” He nervously avoided your eyes, remaining tense in his seat. 

Recovering, you gave a slight cough. “Okay. What made it a bad day?” 

Keeping his eyes rooted firmly at the side of your face, he said: “I’m tired. And angry. And normally, I can suppress the negative emotions, but it was too much today.” 

You nodded. “That makes sense. Is there a reason it was too much?

He sighed. “Someone told me that they hoped I ‘got well soon.’ And I know, I  _ know _ , they were just trying to be nice. But it just reminded me that I’m  _ still _ so fucked up. Even  _ months _ after I got rid of Hydra’s brainwash.” 

You sighed. “Look, Mr. Barnes. I’m not going to sit here and feed you the same shit your previous psychiatrists have. I told myself on day one that I wasn’t going to treat you like some kid. So, there’s no point in lying to you. You’ve been through a lot of shit, and that’s going to take some time to work through. But Mr. Barnes, I don’t think you’re as broken as you think you are. As other people have  _ made _ you think you are.” 

“You—you don’t?” he asked hesitantly. 

“No. In fact, you’ve made considerable progress.” 

He looked confused. “I’ve hardly talked.” 

“But you went from not talking at all, to talking a little. You also seem noticeably less tense. In quite a short time span, I might add.” 

“I would hardly call that progress,” he scoffed. 

“I would,” you stated strongly. “I know it’s hard to refrain from beating yourself up, because you want to go back to normal, to be the person you once were. Honestly though? Being the person you used to be is overrated, as there’s always room for self-improvement. After all, don’t you want to become a better version of who you were? Even before the whole ‘Winter Soldier’ thing?

He thought for a moment. “Yes.” 

You smiled. “I want to be a better person than who I was years ago, too. So, I strive for it everyday.” 

“You do?

“Oh, yeah,” you laughed. “I’ve done things I wish I could take back. But, the past is the past, and I can only move forward.” 

He seemed to contemplate that last sentence, almost as if he didn’t agree. You made sure to take note of that. 

You continued: “Plus, you’re on no set schedule. There’s no expectation that you improve by a certain date. So try not to push yourself, okay? I realize it’s hard, but we’ve got all the time in the world. Plus, you’re not too bad of company, Mr. Barnes.” 

You saw the corners of his lips quirk up at that. 

Clearing his throat, he said: “Thank you. I really appreciate you being honest with me. I get sick of hearing the same shit from doctors.” 

You smiled. “Of course. That’s what I’m here for.” 

A chirping noise signaled the end of your session. 

“And that’s that, Mr. Barnes. I’ll see you Tuesday.” 

He nodded. “Have a good day.” 

With a smile in your voice, you said: “You too.” 

As he exited your office, he couldn’t help but feel a little better about himself. 

_ Maybe this isn’t such a bad thing after all _ _,_ he thought. 


	4. A Broken Dam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things had been going good during your sessions with James. But good things only last so long. James’s struggle with his mental health is thoroughly depicted, and now you must decide on your next steps in order to help your patient and friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of mental illness. I tried to present Bucky’s challenges as accurately as possible. However, if anyone has some suggestions as to better portray his illness and resulting therapy, please lmk! (I researched to depict his struggle with mental illness and the type of therapy he would recieve as accurately as I could). Curse words are also included.  
> Notes: Italics are thoughts and emphasis. Set before Infinity War and Endgame. Slow burn. Mentions of Suicide, heavy angst (unresolved), and cursing included in chapter.

It was like a dam had broke. 

Since your session where he actually revealed a part of himself to you, he had become more open; more willing to talk about his feelings and past experiences. Once you had showed him that, while you had never gone through something as traumatic as he did, you could still understand where he was coming from. You could still _ empathize  _ with him. Not to mention, when you told him that you, too, desired to become a better person, he appeared to become more comfortable with you. Perhaps, because you could relate to him, at least in some small way.  _ He probably never felt like he could relate to anybody_. The fact that he held on to such a small connection between you two proved how desperate he was for human interaction and bonding. It made your heart  _ ache_. You also noted that your honesty seemed to be very important to him, as he was fed up with the lies he had been fed by so many others in his life. He yearned for the truth, to not be treated like a fragile child. 

In short, over the past few conclaves, he had, slowly but surely, let you in; let you see some of his emotions. At least, to some extent. You had a feeling you had only scraped the surface of his psychological trauma. 

_ And, by God, had he been through so much.  _

The past few weeks allowed for you to gain a better comprehension of just what he had experienced. Everything he told you made your heart weep for him. Your past session, especially:

“I’m a monster.”

That was the first he said to you when he sat down. 

Schooling your expression, you replied: “Why do you think that?” 

“I think it’s pretty fucking obvious. Do you know how many people I’ve killed?” he said angrily. 

“Yes,” you stated calmly. 

He seemed to become more outraged by your impassive expression. 

“How can you just sit there and act like I’m not utterly horrible? Like I haven’t killed? Like I haven’t  _ destroyed_ _?_ ” 

The pain in his voice was evident, and you could tell he was close to a complete breakdown. It hurt to see him like this. 

_I need to calm him, and soon—before this gets out of hand._

“Because you’re not. That wasn’t  _ you_, James. You weren’t in control of your actions. That was Hydra.” 

“But I still did it. I could’ve tried harder to escape. I could’ve just killed myself. Anything to make the destruction  _ stop_.” He was practically seething, self-loathing clouding his eyes. 

“Think rationally, James. You tried to escape, didn’t you? Multiple times?” 

He looked conflicted. “Yes, but—“ 

You didn’t let him continue. “But nothing. You  _ tried_, and that alone proves that you didn’t want to commit those acts. Not to mention all the times you could’ve killed Steve, and yet you held yourself back. You’re a good man, James. The  _ real _ you, is a good man. Not what Hydra made you think you are. And killing yourself? What good would that have done? Hydra would never have let you get away with it. And even if they did, who would be here to help the people today? Because of your experience, you provide a key insight into the minds and methods of the enemy. No one else could help in that way like you.” 

He had fallen silent, and you had sworn you saw a tear fall down his cheek.

You didn’t comment on it. 

The silence continued on, and finally, he spoke. “You mean that, don’t you?” 

“I meant every word, James. You know I wouldn’t lie.” 

He settled back into his seat, taking in your words. The rest of the time was spent in quietude. 

That session stayed with you. You couldn’t quite forget the look on his face when you vehemently disagreed with him. And you didn’t think you ever would. 

_ It was like he couldn’t believe I saw him as anything else other than a monster.  _

You so desperately wanted to help this poor man. And by the looks of it, you were. He was talking more, delving deeper into his feelings. 

The more he opened up, though, the more you realized that you liked the man behind the mask. He was charming, funny, a little shy, andvery intelligent. The worse part, though, was that he didn’t even  _ know _ how good he was. He couldn’t see it, but you did. He had been through so much, and he was still trying to help others. He had fought longer than a man should ever be expected to, and yet, he was still willing to fight some more. You soon found yourself looking forward to sessions with him, as you could learn more about the soldier. 

Images of the smiles and laughs you shared during your time together flashed before your eyes. You grinned. 

Of course, there were good days, and there were bad. 

Today was one of the bad ones. 

He was five minutes late to your session. Which, in hindsight, should’ve made you more prepared for the outburst to come. But, you were hopeful, telling yourself that he was just running a little behind.  _Maybe something had come up?_

The angry knock at your door told you something different. 

You called for him to enter, and the door burst open. He stalked to his chair, settling down heavily. 

You raised an eyebrow. “Is something the matter, James?” 

He ignored you. 

You coughed to get his attention, and repeated your question: “Is something bothering you?” 

“You’re a liar.” 

You startled.  _ What? _

“Come again?” 

“You heard me. You’re a fucking liar.” 

You tried to keep your voice from giving away your true emotions. Steeling yourself, you said: “Why do you think that, James?” 

“You told me that I wasn’t a monster. That I was a good man. That the past was in the past. But you fucking lied. Something you said you’d never do” 

“In no way did I ever lie to you, James.” 

“The fuck you didn’t.” 

You tried to keep a soothing tone of voice. “Let’s just calm down and talk this out. How are you feeling right now?” 

He only became more enraged at that. “Don’t tell me to calm down. And don’t pull that fucking stereotypical psychiatrist shit on me.” He stood up, tossing his chair to the floor in his frustration. 

_ Okay, bad choice of words.  _

You remained sitting, hoping to show him that you weren’t afraid of him. That you trusted him.

But it didn’t seem to register with him. He only became angrier, more caught up in his own head. You knew, logically, that his hatred was directed at himself, and he was just taking it out on you. But still, his words hurt, and you worried that he was regressing. 

He kept raging, throwing insults your way. He tossed your papers across the room, destroying like he believed he was meant to. 

All the while, you remained seated and silent. Until finally, his anger turned cold. Those intense eyes that you loved (that stopped you in the middle of the hallway all those months ago, just like they floored you now), settled on you once more. 

He uttered one word.  _ One word. _ One word that had you holding back tears: “Liar.” So much hatred, anger, and self-loathing coated the word. Enough, in fact, to make your insides curl. 

_ I feel like I’m about to puke.  _

With that, he turned and strode out of your office. The walls shook with the force of the slamming door. 

Left in silence, a stark contrast to the hurricane that rampaged through your office minutes ago, you sat frozen in your chair. 

_ What the hell just happened?  _

He was pissed. You lied. The person he trusted the most, other than Steve, had  _ lied_. All the time you spent together, those past few months, claiming that he wasn’t a monster. That his past was just that— the past. You lied. You were  _ wrong_. He had put so much faith in you, had opened up to you (like he had with no one else, not even with Steve), and you had had taken his trust, his  _ feelings_, and just stomped them into the dirt. 

Those sessions didn’t mean shit. They were a waste of time. He didn’t  _ progress_. He didn’t get any  _ better. _You must’ve lied about that, too. 

_Why? Why does this have to happen? Why couldn’t you have just told the truth? Told me what I already know? What everyone already knows?_

He was just a monster. That was all he was, all he ever would be. 

_ I though I could trust you. That you were different. I thought you were my friend.  _

Hours later, you still remained in your office, sitting in the exact position James had left you in hours ago. You were still in shock due to the day’s events. 

_ What if he never comes back? What if he refuses to see me again?  _

He was your friend, and you feared you might’ve lost him forever.

No. 

You wouldn’t let that happen. You didn’t put your blood, sweat, and tears into this, into  _ him, _to just let it all go down the drain. 

You were determined to bring him back. To keep working with him, even if he had regressed. There were good days, and bad days, you knew that. And before it got better, it would get worse. You reminded yourself that his outburst was normal, expected, even. You weren’t going to give up on him. You had made a promise.

After all, this was your job. And you were damn good at your job. 

But above all, he was your  _ friend. _And you were going to stand by him—through thick and thin. 

It was then that your phone chimed. A message from Steve. 

A cup of coffee had been thrown on James early this morning, in his favorite coffee shop (his only happy place, other than your office). And with it, the offender had yelled a single word: ‘monster.’ 


	5. Reconcile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky hasn’t been to your last few sessions. You are worried about his well-being. Will he come back to you, or have you lost your favorite patient for good?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of mental illness. I tried to present Bucky’s challenges as accurately as possible. However, if anyone has some suggestions as to better portray his illness and resulting therapy, please lmk! (I researched to depict his struggle with mental illness and the type of therapy he would recieve as accurately as I could). Curse words are also included.  
> Notes: Italics are thoughts and emphasis. Set before Infinity War and Endgame. Slow burn.

You were worried.

James hadn’t shown up to any of your recent sessions, and you had yet to glimpse those striking blue eyes. 

_ What do I do now?  _

You were struggling with how to approach the subject. On one hand, you wanted to give him his space. On the other, however, you were worried that time away from your consistent sessions would only be detrimental. 

To put it simply, you were running out of ideas. 

You were already taking more strolls around the compound in hopes of seeing him. _What I would do if I did run into him still remained a mystery, though._ You dared to go to Fury, subtly inquiring over his whereabouts, and yet, according to the Director, no one had seen the sergeant. (Fury then told you to get your issue solved quickly. Although, his orders were a little more crude). You even went to his favorite coffee shop, though you suspected he wouldn’t be gracing it with his presence anytime soon. 

Now, you were left with one option. 

Steve Rogers . 

Initially, you did not want to ask him for help because of his close relationship with James. You had even discussed confidentiality with Steve before. At this point though, you were willing to cross the confines of your profession, as long as it was for James’s well-being. 

Whether you liked it or not, it was time to find Steve. 

Sighing, you stood from your chair, ready to begin your journey to find the Captain. 

And then a knock sounded at your office door. 

_ Could it be...? _

It wasn’t.   
  


But it was the next best thing.

Standing at your door was Steve Rogers, in all his Captain America glory. 

_ Huh, I must’ve summoned him.  _

The two of you made eye contact. 

“Have you seen James?”

_ Well, so much for his help _ _,_ you thought. 

At the same time, both of you had inquired the same question of each other. Steve looked panicked, and you sighed. “No, I haven’t. Not since his last outburst.” 

Steve was visibly upset. “I was hoping he had came back, but I should’ve known better. He’s stubborn as a mule.”

You snorted. “You got that right. Come on in.” 

With that, Steve stepped around you and into your office. 

Both of you taking a seat, you relayed to him what had happened during your last session. 

Steve sighed. “I know he’s hard on himself because of what he’s been through. But he seemed to be doing so well with you.” 

You nodded. “Yeah. Though, to be completely honest, I was waiting for something like this to happen.” 

Steve raised his head. “You were?” 

“Definitely. It’s common, expected even, for patients with great mental trauma to act out and separate themselves from others. But with his background, handling the situation is very difficult and delicate. I mean, the first issue would be to find him, and no one, not even you, has seen him. Hell, we are literally dealing with an ex-assassin, here. I wish there was like—a book, or a manual over him, ” you gave a non-humorous laugh. 

Steve looked thoughtful. “I might just know where he is, now that you mention it. Honestly, I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner,” he mumbled half to himself. 

He stood, purposefully ignoring your confused expression. 

“You’ll see him, soon,” he confidently stated as he strode out of the room.

_ Well, okay then.  _

Bucky didn’t know what to do. 

You had to hate him now. He knew, he  _ knew _ _,_ his behavior was absolutely horrid. You had to fear him at this point. You had to see him as the  _ monster _ everyone else did. 

But oh, how he didn’t want you to. 

He wanted, so desperately, to hide his outbursts from you. He had talked to you about them, yes, but he never wanted to actually  _ show _ them to you. 

He didn’t want you to leave him once you saw how  _ bad _ he could really get. 

The funny thing, though? You didn’t even look scared. You just sat there, waiting for him to finish.  _ But it had to be a mask, right? You had to be scared of him. After all, everyone else was. _ The only time you showed any emotion was when he had called you a liar. 

He didn’t mean it. 

He was just so angry after his run-in with the man in the coffee shop. The stranger ( _ and, really? A stranger had affected him this much? Pathetic. _ ) had confirmed his worst fears and destroyed one of his favorite places all in one go. And he didn’t know what to do. Where to  go . Except to you. He had went to you for comfort (because you were his only true source of consolation, if he were to be honest), but the time spent making his way to you only served to make him feel more angry, more  confused . His emotions came crashing over him like waves in the storm he is, and by the time he reached you, the only form of communication he could use was taking his frustration out on you. He couldn’t help himself, he just needed a release, and you were the closest person to direct it at. 

And he  _ knew _ you weren’t a liar. After all, you

truly didn’t think he was a monster. Or, at least, you didn’t before. 

_ I’m sure you think differently now.  _

Even after everything, he still wanted to go back to you. To continue as if nothing ever happened. To have you comfort him. But he knew that was impossible. 

Sighing, he strolled along the book store’s aisles, noticing a familiar head of blonde hair. 

_Steve_. 

James sighed, his friend truly did know him well. Maybe  _ too _ well. 

“Hey, Buck.”

James looked up from the book in his hands. “Couldn’t just leave me alone, could ya, punk?”

Steve smiled. “You know I can’t.”

Bucky sighed again. “I know why you’re here. Just spit it out already.” 

“You need to go back. She really helps you, Buck. Don’t throw that away over one incident.”

“ _ Incident _ _?_ ” James scoffed. “I destroyed her office.” 

“Bucky, she’s a trained professional. She’s used to dealing with her patient’s emotions, good or bad. Hell, it’s her job.”

James looked down at his feet, shaking his head. “She has to hate me now. Or at the very least, not want to come anywhere near me.“

Steve laughed. 

James whipped his head up. “What?” he snarled. 

Steve laughed again. “It’s quite the opposite, pal.”

James looked confused. “What do you mean?” 

“She’s been looking all over the tower for you, Buck. She’s been asking after you and everything. Even faced Fury’s wrath just to see if you were okay. She wants you to come back, pal.” 

James gave a shaky breath. “She does?” he asked meekly.

“Yes. And you want to go back, too. Don’t deny it, I know you. Just do us all a favor and continue your sessions.” 

A solemn look crossed the sergeant’s face. “The things I said to her, Steve. I—I don’t know if I can face her after that.”

Steve sighed. “Buck, look, I know you’re beating yourself up over it. But, she’s a trained professional, like I said. She’s used to outbursts and angry patients. She didn’t take anything you said to heart, not really. And she’s already forgiven you for it. Even though, and I quote, you “didn’t do anything that needed forgiveness.”’

James laughed shakily. “Yeah, that sounds like something she would say.” 

Steve smiled. “So, it’s settled, then? You’ll go back?” 

After a moments deliberation, James nodded. 

Steve slapped a hand on his shoulder. “Alright, then. You’ve got an appointment.” 

For the past few hours you had been busying yourself with work, trying to keep your mind offof James and whatever the hell Steve was up to. 

_Did Steve find him? Will—can—he get James to come back?_

You had never been so tied up with a patient before. Sure, you worried over all of them and wished them the best. But this—this was different. You wanted—no  _ needed _ —James to come back. You needed to make sure he was okay. You needed to see his smile again (and what a beautiful smile it was). You needed to make sure you didn’t lose a close friend, one who you had gotten to know very deeply over the past few months. 

He wasn’t just a patient to you anymore. 

And you were worried. 

So, like any other healthy individual (ironic because of your profession), you dived into your work. You were so fixated on your task that you almost— almost — didn’t catch the timid knock on your door.

Your hand stilled on your piece of paper. 

It’s _him_. 

You just knew it was. You could  _ feel _ it. 

_ What do I do now?  _

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself and called for him to enter.

_ This is it.  _

He had become very comfortable with you over your time together. To the point where his silent steps has turned confident. Now, however, it seemed to be his first session, with how bashfully he entered your office. 

“Take a seat, Mr. Barnes.”

“Bucky.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I think we’ve been through enough together that you can call me Bucky.”

Swallowing, you nodded. “Okay, Bucky. How are you doing today?”

He looked baffled. “So you’re just gonna pretend my whole scene didn’t happen?”

You smiled. “Look, Bucky. I’m used to that sort of thing. I deal with it, sometimes, on a daily basis. It happens. You were upset, and you acted on it. It’s as simple as that.”

He shook his head. “People don’t throw shit and cuss out their friends when they get mad.”

Laughing, you said: “Well, some do. But with your history of mental distress, it’s totally normal for you to get overwhelmed and need an outlet. I’m fine being that outlet, Bucky. I  _ am _ your therapist.” 

He frowned. “Aren’t you mad at me?”

_ Always so blunt. Gotta admire that, though.  _

You smiled once more. “No, Bucky. I was never mad.” 

He looked a little shocked. “You weren’t?”

“No. Like I said, your behavior was totally normal. I’m not going to get mad at you when I completely understand where you were coming from.”

He snorted. “I take it Steve told you what happened.”

“Yes, and I’m glad he did. It helped me better understand what was going through that head of yours.”

He looked a little uncomfortable at that last statement, not quite ready to divulge his feelings. He needed a little time to get readjusted, and you were pretty sure he was still worried that you were mad at him. So, you changed the subject. “Anyway, where did Steve find you today?”

“A bookstore,” he quietly replied.

Your face lit up. “The one on 75th?”

He looked up in surprise. “Yeah. Have you been?”

You sighed blissfully. “Yes! It’s like my favorite place. Right after Fort Washington Park.”

He looked contemplative. “Hmm, I’ve never been to that park before.”

You smiled. “I highly recommend it. I love to just sit and read. A little break from all the chaos around here, ya know?”

He smiled ruefully. “Yeah, I think I get what you mean.”

You frowned. “You’re not part of the chaos, by the way. In fact, you make it all the more bearable.” 

“I find that hard to believe,” he scoffed. 

“I’m not lying, Bucky. I truly never have.” 

He looked down at his lap. “I know.”

Relief settled in your stomach. You were so glad he didn’t truly think you a liar. Just as you had expected, those words were just out of anger—not at you. 

You grinned. “Good. And I never will. I don’t make it a habit of lying to my friends.”

Because if there was one thing Bucky Barnes needed in this world, it was a friend. 


End file.
